Chasing Infinity
by Grand Delusions
Summary: [Post LMR, all cast] In life and love we all chase after that unreachable horizon. We wake up and go through life looking ahead towards the future, chasing after something beyond today. Whether we realize it or not, we're always chasing after infinity...
1. Chapter 1

Title: Chasing Infinity  
Author: Grand Delusions  
Rating: T  
Spoiler: _Losing My Religion,_ and just for fun, the ABC Character Blogs and Character Bios are considered canon  
Disclaimer: They're not mine, if only, if only…  
Keywords: Meredith/Derek, Addison/Mark, Cristina/Burke, George/Callie, Izzie/Alex  
Summary: Post-Season 2 Drama following all major characters "In life and in love we all chase after that unreachable horizon. Whether we realize it or not, we're always chasing after infinity."  
Author's Note: This is a post-Season 2 drama featuring all the major characters from GA. The story's timeline and plot lines have been set and a lot of old (and new) issues will be dealt with. So if you're up for it, jump onto the emotional rollercoaster. I think it will be an exciting trip.  
This chapter involves how all the characters deal with the events of the finale. And frankly, everyone's a mess! But my personal favorite is Meredith's reaction to the realization of what she's done, because it's such a coping mechanism. And God love her, she is a filthy whore— I say this with love (and a bit of humor).  
As always, if there's something you love or hate; if something doesn't make sense; or you think there's something stylistically that doesn't fit, I'd love to hear how I can improve in a review. And I'd love to hear if you're reading anyway. Thanks for taking the time to read this, and enjoy!

-o-

"_And we are talking about forever here."  
--Meredith Grey, Losing My Religion_

-o-

**Chasing Infinity**

-o-

**Chapter 1**

-o-

_In life and in love we all chase after that unreachable horizon. We run after it. We each even have our own special names for it: forever… eternity… infinity._

_As humans it's hard to grasp that idea of limitless space and unbound time. Infinity is a scary concept. As doctors we are trained to deal with the finite: organs bound by tissue; time confined to hours, minutes, and seconds; lives that we all know will eventually end. Medicine knows its limit, and infinity starts where those boundaries we know so well— stop._

_It's easy to distract ourselves from the weight of forever by concentrating on the bounds of daily life. So we travel one day at a time with eternity looming before us. And every morning we wake up and go through life: making plans, taking action, and looking ahead towards the future— chasing after something beyond today. Whether we realize it or not, we're always chasing after infinity…_

-o-

Meredith let out a sigh of relief as she closed the backdoor, depositing her purse and keys on the counter and allowing Izzie's shoes to drop from her hand to the ground.

One…

Two…

They landed with a dull thud against the floor, the pink wrap fluttering behind. She slumped back against the wood-paneled door, waiting for her racing pulse to slow.

'_What the hell have I done?'_ she asked herself.

Breathing deeply, her eyes swept across the cluttered kitchen, taking in the dirty dishes, toppled piles of textbooks and medical journals, and scattered shoes. Tucking stray hair behind her ears, Meredith bent down, tugging off her shoes and kicking them to the growing mass of assorted footwear before walking towards the sink. Methodically she reached out and threw the faucet hard to the left.

Spray and steam hit her arms, stinging and then rapidly cooling. The hissing of the burning water announced her atonement, and reminded her of her sins... singing them loudly in the empty space.

Meredith watched the steam float to the ceiling as she reached for a sponge, dish soap, and a dirty plate. The amber liquid slid down the slick surface of the plate as she emptied half the bottle on the single dish. Her hands turned a deep pink while she furiously scrubbed the dried food from the dish, finally sliding it onto the counter.

The plate was clean. But was she?

Would she ever be?

The water burned and her eyes watered from the pain. But she reached for a second plate and thrust her hands under the faucet again, working on the caked-on layers of crusted food, trying desperately to clean it. Trying to make herself clean…

A third plate, and a fourth, and then a bowl…

Eventually the white hot pain turned to an unbearable chill, and Meredith watched her hands grow red under the constant cascade of freezing liquid fire. But the heat and cold didn't burn away her imperfections, and she felt as filthy as when she had fled the hospital and used the pitiful excuse of tending to a friend as a reason to ignore her own disasters.

When a stack of wet, slick, polished dishes emerged from lines of dried, filthy ones, her numb hands reached for the valve.

The water stopped, and the steam melted away.

Meredith stood at the sink, studying her dark red hands, feeling the numbness dissolve, giving way to a sharp tingling, slicing through her hands with each quiver of a finger. In the sudden quiet she thought she heard a muffled crying, and assumed Izzie was sobbing hysterically behind the closed door of her room. She was glad she the screams sounded like faint whimpers from down below. Trying not hard enough to care about another's universe while she witnessed the silent destruction of her own.

The thick wooden door leading to the hallway swung open and George trudged into the kitchen, Izzie's sobs echoing behind him.

His skin was pale and hair askew. Dark rims edged his eyes; he aged years in the minutes since she watched him walk out of the hospital. He barely acknowledged his roommate—simply nodding at her as he walked around her in route to the refrigerator.

Meredith watched him as he grabbed a beer, taking a long gulp as he wearily lowered himself down at the table. His dark-rimmed eyes met Meredith's.

"Do you need one?" he offered, holding up the bottle, hospitable even in a crisis.

She shook her head, mutely walking to the door George had just entered, marching towards the staircase, Izzie's cries growing louder with each step.

-o-

Addison quietly closed the door behind her, the fabric of her dress rustling despite her best efforts to maintain the hallowed silence of the hospital at night. Inwardly she cringed at the sound of her heels clicking across the sterile linoleum as she crossed the hall to the nurse's station. The few feet seemed like an endless wasteland.

Richard leaned against the counter; arms crossed, tense and worried, like everyone in the hospital seemed to be after all that had happened. But Addison realized that even when he looked anxious he still held up the mask of professionalism. He was still sharp, still the Chief. She wished she keep that hard façade, but hers was crumbling. She wondered how long it would be before the inevitable avalanche.

"She's asleep," she reported. "And we're keeping her overnight for observation. But like I said before, Richard, even with the best case, Camille doesn't have months. She has weeks."

Richard clenched his jaw and looked away, slowly nodding. The reality of the situation finally sank in. The hush of the hospital at night left no distractions from truth. The unspoken hanging ominously overhead: Camille was no best case scenario.

Were any of them, at this point?

"Thank you, Addison," Richard murmured, slowly turning away.

She followed him to the row of plastic chairs lining the wall, mirroring his actions as he slowly lowered himself down.

Addison crossed her legs and smoothed out the crimson folds of her dress. A tense, sad smile crossed her mouth, and she laughed quietly to herself as she stared at the dress and recalled all thoughts and motivations that had fluttered across her brain when she had chosen the dress: He had always said she looked stunning in red.

And she had.

She always did.

But tonight he didn't even look at her.

She began fiddling a loose wisp of hair that had fallen free from the braid, angry and ashamed.

What a night.

Richard turned his head to face her. "I won't keep you," he told her, twisting his gold wedding ring as he moved is focus to the opposing wall, "I'm sure you need to get home."

"I'm not going home," she hissed, waiting for him to convince her otherwise, half expecting her former teacher to list all the reasons she couldn't react that way. But the seconds passed and he said nothing, so she charged recklessly on.

"Something… happened tonight," she whispered, trying desperately to give voice to the feeling that birthed a thousand suspicions and theories that churned around her stormy mind. "They both disappear, and then he won't even look at me when she's there," she seethed, the bitter words spilling uncontrollably from her lips.

Richard's eyes widened slightly at the confession, but he didn't speak, nor did he seem all that surprised. Neither was she, unfortunately. But that didn't make reality any easier to endure.

'_Reality,'_ she thought cynically, _'the most bitter pill to swallow.'_

"They both figured it out," she continued, acknowledging the unthinkable. "So I'm not going home tonight. I'm not going home to that," she insisted, running her fingers along the smooth fabric of her dress while her mentor nodded in silence.

Addison watched as an on-call resident passed by, holding a cup full of coffee in her right hand, trying to survive another late night shift while juggling charts with the left. The squeaking sneakers faded off as she rushed away.

"Remember back in New York when Derek and I were your students?" Addison suddenly blurted out, but feeling childish and self-conscious as the words hung in the air. Why bring up something that was so far gone?

Richard once again nodded, staring straight ahead. He continued to twist at the metal ring, nostalgic for a time when everything seemed so simple.

"You two were the best residents I have ever trained. Competitive—top of your game. You never let anyone beat you, and that's why you're the best," he praised, smiling warmly, more for her benefit of hearing it than reveling in his own accomplishments of raising them to such prestigious levels. "Why do you think I worked so hard to get you both out here?"

Addison's fingers dug into the red material, crumpling the dress in her closing fists. Anger overcame depression. Then guilt overcame anger.

"I never told him," she admitted softly.

"Told him what?"

"About why I stayed," Addison uncurled her fists, listening to the falling rustle of fabric break the distant drone of footsteps and murmuring voices. "I let him think that I stayed to save our marriage," she explained, lifting her watering eyes to stare into the lights. She blinked back tears and released a shaky breath, struggling to maintain composure.

She waited for him to respond, waited for him chide her, berate her, or even grieve with her. But he was too weighted down with his own personal demons and the stillness rang all around her, pulsating with the unspoken accusations.

"I didn't even miss him until I saw him with _her_. And when I saw him all happy and with her, it…" she trailed off, shaking her head in frustration. "It didn't matter I had done the same and moved on, all that mattered was that I win. Because I _watched__him_ with _her_, and she was my competition and I… I couldn't let her beat me," she clasped her hands tight together in her lap, wondering if this was a conversation she should be having with her husband instead of her boss.

But both she and Derek suffered from shifting desires to discuss or avoid addressing the state of their marriage. And since neither wanted to tackle the web of problems at the same time, and since Addison needed to speak, she continued speaking; finally giving a voice to all the feelings and frustrations she had bottled up for months while blindly working alone to save something she hadn't realized she wanted until it was too far gone to be revived.

"I thought we were happy in New York, before…" her voice faded away, the unsaid name reaching through the silence, reverberating in both their minds. "But I don't remember what it is to be happy with him anymore," she whispered, allowing herself to mourn the inevitable, the pain seeping in.

Richard closed his hand over her clasped hands, shutting away his own personal regrets in the corners of his mind to comfort his former student the best he knew how; wondering how one cheating husband should comfort the inconsolable wife of another.

'_This must be what heartbreak feels like,'_ she thought as a lone tear slid down her cheek, plummeting to her dress and shattering into a dark red stain against the rumpled fabric.

-o-

Alex pulled his neck hard to the right, then the left, listening to the faint popping of joints temporarily masking the tears and shouts. He learned back against the wall, stretching his stiff legs out in front of him, watching the closed door shake with hysterical sobs and cries.

"Hey," Meredith uttered as she padded up the stairs into the hallway.

Alex jerked his head in a greeting, but he continued to stare at the door leading to Izzie's room.

Meredith trudged over to him and leaned back against the wall. Her legs gave out from under her and she slowly slid down the wall, landing in a heap next to him.

"I thought you'd be in there with her," she revealed, picking at her dress distractedly.

"Yeah, well," he huffed, "she said she wanted to be alone. She didn't want me there." His voice stayed tense and level while he fought for control. His bleary eyes betrayed just how deep the hurt ran.

"She felt guilty having me there since…" Alex trailed off, not needed to elaborate. All the interns knew how he felt about Denny.

Meredith glanced at Alex, taking in his crumpled tux and red eyes. He looked nothing like the flippant playboy she knew. He even looked worse than when the fear of leaving the program hung over his head for weeks.

"It's good that you're here," she assured him, pulling herself up and turning to retreat to the safety of her own room.

"Are you going to sleep on the couch?" she asked, pausing to look at him.

Alex shook his head, pulling up his knees and bowing his head in exhaustion. "I'll stay here in case she needs me," he said, his voice rough and broken.

Meredith nodded and crossed the hall to her room, and Alex watched as she disappeared into her own sanctuary, then he pulled his eyes back to Izzie's door. Praying she would open the door, he tried to picture the scene beyond the oak paneling: Izzie shattered and limp on the bed, face wet and red as mascara stained her cheeks with uneven, black lines, hair wild and elegant, looking like a queen even in despair…

Alex didn't hear Meredith returning to the hall until he heard a soft thump against the floorboards. Glancing over, he saw Meredith walking back towards her room and the feather pillow on the floor next to him.

-o-

Cristina gripped Burke's hand harder as his trembling, outstretched fingers shook uncontrollably. Swallowing a heavy lump in her throat, she watched him, his face screwed up in concentration as he willed his body to submit authority to his mind.

Pulling his hand out of hers, his hand collapsed into a pained fist.

"What do I do, Cristina?" he finally asked, his voice splintering with every word. "What do I do if I can't fix this?"

"I…" she began, but she had no answer; and her eyes fluttered rapidly, blinking back the fresh upwelling of tears.

"Don't think like that Burke," she gently chided, pulling his closed hand to her, rubbing soft circles with her thumbs across his smooth flesh.

His mouth opened and he took a shallow breath, but as Cristina waited for him to speak, only the faint hum of the fluorescent lights resonating in the cramped room answered back.

"Cristina?" his timid voice creaked out, grasping for hope he wasn't sure he should be searching for.

Cristina's stomach clenched and she waited for him to continue.

"Will I be alright?" His pleading eyes bore into her, and she silently wished she could be stronger for him... for her.

"You'll be fine," she promised, mustering the few remaining shards of courage she possessed.

"We'll be fine," she assured him, reluctantly releasing his hand to retrieve a nearby chair.

Sterile, fake wood legs scraped across the pale floors as she pulled the chair to his bedside, settling into uncomfortable seat beside him. Cristina reached for Burke's hand, whispering reassurances as she ran her fingers over his palm, trying to convince him that everything really would be okay.

Wondering if she could convince herself…

-o-

Callie weaved around the few scattered groups of patrons as she staggered away from the ladies' restroom. The smell of stale smoke soaked into her hair and clothing, reminding her why she avoided seedy bars like this in college.

How fitting that only George O'Malley could drive her into a place like this…

Callie slid back onto the bar stool, dumping her purse and cell phone onto the bar counter; Joe's eyes following her—full of concern.

"You feeling better?" he asked tentatively, reaching for a clean class while he watched her from the corner of his eye.

She groaned in response, her head already throbbed and felt light… disconnected. She wished she could just disconnect from the past evening…from the past two days… Everything she had tried to overcome, to block out…

So much for that.

Her hand supported the heavy weight of head, and she stared down at the reflection of the lights against the shiny bar surface. She watched the blue flickering from the television as it bounced off the thick layer of lacquer on the counter. Her head throbbed. Today had been too much, and she never did well drinking on an empty stomach.

Joe pushed a glass of water in front of her, urging her to try drinking it.

"I just threw up, Joe. I can't drink _anything_ right now," Callie grumbled, her fingers rubbing her temples in small, methodical circles. At least the pain in her head dulled the pain in her heart.

"You should try to keep something down," the bartender encouraged.

Callie tried to piece together a sarcastic response, but the front door swung open and interrupted her thoughts. Her head whipped around to face the door, but immediately snapped back as she turned her attention back to Joe. Her shoulders tensed and Joe noticed she seemed even sicker than before when she had rushed off to the ladies' room…

Joe flicked his gaze to the entrance. Derek Shepherd stood by the door, uncomfortable and awkward, eyes trained suspiciously on Callie.

The bartender looked back to Callie, his eyebrows raised in confusion. She rolled her eyes before staring off into the corner, tangling her finger around a rebellious lock of hair. Derek seated himself at the bar, looking guilty and worried as he tugged at his collar, not looking at all like a confident, respected neurosurgeon.

Joe's head bounced back and forth between the two of them, observing the large chasm between them and noticing the sudden shift in attitudes. Then Callie's drunken ramblings from earlier came floating back into his thoughts:

"_And I didn't even get to the part about finding two people having sex in an exam room…"_

"So it was him," he whispered more to himself than to Callie. His suspicions were confirmed. He didn't need to guess who number two was... the proof was on Callie's face.

She glared at him through thick eyelashes, her dark eyes aflame with disgust.

"Yeah," she snorted, feverously grabbing stray bills from her purse and throwing them onto the counter. Joe watched her gather up her things, as she muttered a hurried goodbye, blathering about her schedule, and her shift starting.

Anything to escape.

She cast one last disparaging frown at Derek's back, shooting dagger from her eyes before walking out of the bar.

The look on Derek's face told Joe he felt each one.

Joe slowly made his way towards the tense, hunched over man who was nervously wringing his hands. This anxious, tired person couldn't possibly be the same laughing, good-natured doctor Joe so often saw frequenting his bar… could it?

And if tonight shook him so visibly, what state was Meredith in?

"So," Joe began, unsure of the appropriate ice breaker given all he had learned about the evening at Seattle Grace, "I hear you've had a busy night."

-o-


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Chapter 2: more fallout, mostly centered mostly around The Triangle of Death, and Izzie. Look for George/Callie and Burktina next chapter, oh, and the Mer/Der blow-up. It took a (long) while, but blame the writer's block, not me. Three sections were cut because I didn't think they fit here, and I'd like to keep the chapters relatively equal in length. They most likely will be included later.

-o-

**Chasing Infinity**

-o-

**Chapter 2**

-o-

The bedroom door creaked open, the old hinges groaning as George nervously pushed against the wooden slab. Slowly his tousled head of brown hair peeked out into the hallway, surveying the damage from the meltdown the night before:

The faint morning light pierced the curtains, broken and fractured through the drops of rain from the morning downpour. It cast a deathly blue light against the walls and floors. The hallway glowed like some ethereal tomb.

Alex slumped over against the wall, guarding Izzie's door and barely visible in the pre-dawn glow. His faint snoring mingled with the steady beat of rain.

George's shoulders relaxed slightly and he released a sigh of thanks: Izzie was sleeping… at least for now.

The calm _after_ the storm.

Or the _eye_ of the storm.

Grabbing his pile of clothes from his chair, he slowly pulled at the doorknob and tiptoed to the bathroom at the end of the hallway.

-o-

Meredith gulped down the remaining sips of coffee when she heard footsteps in the hallway. She glanced at the thin sliver of light under the door, seeing two dark puddles of shadows, assuming that George's feet stood just beyond the kitchen door.

But honestly, who else would be awake now?

She speared a piece of cold lasagna on her fork, shoveling it into her mouth as the door swung open. Crumbs of ground beef soaked with red tomato sauce fell onto the plate like blood dripping down.

George shivered.

"How can you eat that for breakfast?" George asked, rubbing sleep and exhaustion from his eyes as he searched the kitchen for life-giving caffeine.

Meredith shrugged, cutting another square off the leftovers.

George pulled a mug from the cabinet, allowing the door to slam shut as he poured the dark coffee into the cup. He inhaled the thick scent, feeling the warm steam against his face, as if the smell alone could wake him.

"When's your shift?" he asked, lumping spoonfuls of sugar into his drink.

"Six," she mumbled through the final mouthful of lasagna. "You?"

"Same," George answered, stirring the spoon, the metal scraping against the porcelain sides.

"Should we wait for them?" he took a sip of coffee.

Wordlessly, Meredith rose from the table, taking the plate and flatware with her. "Is Alex still in the hall?" She asked, finally.

"Wha-?" George's eyebrows furrowed, draining the mug in a large gulp. "Um, yeah, he is, but what does that…" he trailed off, unsure of Meredith's intent.

"Alex probably won't leave until Izzie opens that door, and we probably won't see Izzie for awhile," she reasoned, sliding the dirty dish into the sink, and letting the fork and knife clatter behind.

Grabbing her large tote from the adjacent chair, Meredith fished out her keys. Slinging the bag over her shoulder, she headed out the back door without waiting for him.

George watched in bleary-eyed confusion before her dirty blonde head popped into view again.

"Let's go, George," she snapped.

-o-

Cristina awoke to an unknown hand shaking her. Her back dug into the armrest of the chair from sleeping in the uncomfortable patient room chairs in a fetal position. Squinting in the bright fluorescent light she pulled her head up.

"What?" she croaked out, her voice thick with sleep.

"Pre-rounds in fifteen minutes," Bailey whispered, casting a worried glance at Burke as she silently quit the room.

Cristina slowly drew herself up, out of the makeshift bed. Her hands fluttered across her dress, hopelessly working to brush out the crinkles as she tiled her aching neck back and forth: once, twice, three times, like a stiff, unused pendulum.

She turned at the door, watching Burke's eyes flutter.

She knew she should stay. She should be strong for him. Her supportive-girlfriend act seriously needed work.

But Cristina bit down on her quivering lower lip and rushed off to the lockers, not knowing minutes after she fearfully hurried away, that he would wake alone and wrongly assume he had been alone all night.

-o-

Addison stood at the nurse's station and stared down at her left hand. Gracefully slender fingers accented by the flash and sparkle of metal and stone. Although now the glittering diamonds mocked her, a symbol of lifetime of love and dedication hung on her hand, chaining her down to a prison of uncertainty and doubt.

She looked away, quickly breaking away before the pain became crushing.

"Doctor Bailey," she called out to retreating figure down the hall.

"Doctor Shepherd?"

"I need an intern assigned to me today," Addison stated, marveling at how even and professional she could sound after a sleepless night in the attendings' on-call room.

Whirling around, Addison leaned her back against the counter, sighing brokenly. But as she stared off into the open space of the hospital trying to forget, her focus fell on her husband wandering aimlessly into the main waiting area.

His eyes locked with hers and his eyes immediately widened as he visibly paled before turning away. His brisk walk might as well have been a run…

He looked guilty and exhausted, and as Addison blankly stared at his retreating back she wondered if she had looked anywhere near that guilty the night Derek had walked in on her and Mark intertwined in their marriage bed.

'_What on earth could've happened to have aged him decades over the course of a single night?'_ Addison mused and a cloudy vision of her husband locked in a feverish embrace with his doe-eye intern sprung into her mind.

Rapidly blinking away the image, Addison chided herself for imagining such things. She had been wrong before, after all. It had made perfect sense at the time, at least—Derek rushing back to the trailer, sweating and hot and aroused from a tryst with his lover, absolving himself of any guilt by assuming his husbandly duties by having 'hot sex' with his wife.

It would be just like Derek to chalk up something like sex to a duty.

But she had been wrong—Meredith had vehemently denied it, and Addison knew what a horrible liar the woman was. And in that moment Addison realized her husband had used her to erase his thoughts for his little intern from his mind.

She wished she could hate him, but she knew all too well what it was like. Hadn't she used _Mark_ in the same way to forget _Derek_? And then _Derek_ to forget _Mark_…?

She _had_ been wrong before. And they were _trying_… weren't they?

Derek and Meredith must've fought again, Addison finally decided, ignoring the bubbling hurt even such an innocent scenario brought.

Because Derek had never been so torn up after a fight with his own wife… and Addison wished she could drive that thought from her mind.

-o-

Meredith slammed her locker shut, following George into the hallway. Cristina stood outside, pulling her hair into a bun.

"What's wrong with you?" she asked Meredith. "You look like shit."

"Thank you," Meredith quipped back. "I could say the same about you."

"Could we please not fight today?" George pleaded, holding his head in his hands.

But Bailey strode over to them before Meredith or Cristina could counter. "And then there were three," she grumbled. "Where's Karev?"

Meredith's head whipped over to George, forcing him to answer.

"He's—he's taking care of Izzie," he fumbled around for an excuse.

Bailey pressed her lips together and her eyes narrowed. "I'll deal with him later," she promised and began passing out charts.

"Yang—you're with Ortho today. O'Malley—Shepherd needs an intern for Neuro. And Grey—," Meredith squeezed her eyes closed, praying to God that it wouldn't happen. "you're with Montgomery-Shepherd."

_Damn it._

-o-

_Tick…_

_Tick…_

_Tick…_

Izzie sighed and rolled onto her back, listening to the even clicks of the alarm clock's hands. Her head pounded and judging from the intense burning with each fluttering eyelid, she guessed her eyes were bloodshot as well.

Her cell phone began buzzing, and she tilted back her head to watch as the small object danced across the bedside table. Fingers twitched, almost reaching, but Izzie's arm felt too heavy and too useless to move, buried happily in the plush folds of her comforter.

The cell phone shook towards the edge, and Izzie watched with cold disinterest as it teetered on the edge before plummeting to the floor. She wondered if her phone had broken open, the battery and cover sliding across the floor. But, she couldn't muster the desire to look.

'_I'm sorry Dr. Bailey,'_ Izzie rehearsed in her mind, _'I didn't get your message because my phone is _dead_.'_

Faint giggles bubbled up, but they sounded like sharp, deranged cackles in the empty space. It wasn't funny, but the thought was so melodramatic and ironic that Izzie couldn't help but laugh.

_Dead_… that's what she felt like.

That's what she wished she was.

At least then she'd stop hurting.

'_I wish I was like my phone,'_ she thought, dissolving into a second wave of exhausted laughter.

The sharp ringing of the main line sounded, and Izzie imagined the house phone falling to its death alongside her cell. She sniggered at this new perverted fantasy.

"Izzie?" Alex's voice called out just beyond the door. "Izzie, open up," he insisted, jiggling the door handle.

Izzie ignored him and shut her eyes, rolling over onto her stomach. The pink taffeta crackled and the netting scratched her legs. She dropped her face onto her pillow, still wet with tears and mascara stains.

But blocking out reality and phone calls lasted only until she heard a faint click and knew that Alex had picked the lock. She squeezed her eyes tighter as she listened to Alex's footsteps and remembered the first time she saw Denny walk.

"_You're tall."_  
"_I know."_

"Izzie, the phone's for you," Alex said softly.

Methodically, she rolled over and accepted the phone.

When she spoke into the mouthpiece, her voice cracked from too many shed tears.

"Hello?"

-o-

"Good, get her consent forms and then get her on the board," Addison instructed as flipped the chart shut and handed it to Meredith.

"Okay," the intern timidly replied, sounding more like a baffled medical student than a surgical intern.

Addison turned sharply and stared at Meredith. "Dr. Grey?" she asked.

Meredith's eyes shot up, wide and frightened.

Just as Addison prepared herself to launch another line of questioning, Meredith's eyes flicked to the left, staring just over Addison's shoulder.

Slowly pivoting around, Addison wasn't terribly shocked to see Derek down the hallway. She felt her lips curl into a snarl and a questioning eyebrow climbed higher. Arms crossed protectively over her heart, Addison knew something was amiss, and eventually she would learn exactly what.

But an eternity passed before her husband even noticed her; and when Derek finally wrenched his focus away from Meredith, his eyes grew hallow and empty. Derek turned away, retreating with his head hung low like a guilty puppy forced to sleep outside. Addison promised herself that if she didn't get answers soon, he would be sleeping in the doghouse.

"Do you want to tell me what that was about, Doctor Grey?" Addison evenly asked the intern behind her.

She heard rather than saw Meredith shake her head.

-o-

Izzie wondered if she should be nervous, if she should be feeling a flutter of anticipation and fear. Snapshots from previous meetings in conference rooms and OR rooms spun into her mind, but she could never remember when she had been ushered into the Chief of Surgery's office.

Izzie leaned back into the guest chair and looked across the desk to meet Chief Webber's scrutinizing glare.

The last time she had met with her boss she had felt too giddy and in love to concentration on what Doctor Webber had been saying. Now she felt too empty to care. She simply wanted this nightmare to end.

After a beat, she asked dully, "Where do I sign?"

"Excuse me?" Webber's question dripped with contempt.

Young, bloodshot eyes scanned over the cluttered desk, peering through the in/out box, nameplate, and forest of pens for resignation papers.

"My—my resignation papers from the program. Some… statement about me cutting the LVAD," Izzie feebly answered, grasping for something, anything to make sense of what was going on.

But Webber watched her through guarded eyes before pulling open the desk's file drawer. He drew out a thick manila folder, licking his fingers before thumbing open the cover. Undoubtedly, her file.

Izzie opened her mouth, but the Chief silenced her with a raised hand.

"Doctor Stevens, I'm placing you on a mandatory, unpaid, two-week suspension. After this time, I will be meeting with you and your resident to discuss any further action."

Her jaw plummeted. How could he do this to her? She came to _end_ _this_.

"But I'm quitting," she meekly insisted.

'_This isn't happening. I can't come back here again,'_ her mind screamed.

However, he continued to ignore her, scribbling what she assumed was the same proclamation on a notepad. The minutes sped by while the pen continued scratching against paper, and Izzie thought she heard him excuse her, but he's gaze clung to the paper and she couldn't be sure.

"Haven't you heard me? I'm quitting!" she protested angrily, arms shaking with uncontrolled resentment.

"The hell you are," Chief Webber replied forcefully. "After everything you've put this hospital through, you don't get to make that call— That's _my_ call. These two weeks are my gift to you so you can screw your head back on straight while I figure out what to do with you. Now you may get tossed out of this program on your ass, but you don't get to simply quit—not after what you've done. You don't get the _easy_ way out."

Her heart thudded against the walls of her chest and she felt a burning resentment building towards the man she considered an icon all throughout her internship. How dare he take this away from her?

"You're dismissed, Doctor Stevens," he said evenly, not looking up.

Izzie stormed out of his office in furious silence.

-o-

George had decided he needed new shoes. He stared at the brown shoestrings that had once been a crisp white and he couldn't even remember what color the worn sneakers had originally been. Studying his shoes at least helped alleviated the tense silence as he and Derek waited for the elevator.

"Is she okay?" Derek asked, trying to keep his voice neutral and impersonal.

"Who… Izzie?" George looked up, "She's still really upset, but she'll be okay eventually, I think." He proceeded to explain, hoping to convince _himself_ that his friend would be fine, but he remained oblivious to the slump in Derek's shoulders and the thinly veiled look of disinterest.

After a long silence he confessed: "I meant Meredith."

"Oh," was the startled reply.

George paused for a moment.

"She's okay too, I guess. I mean, we haven't really spoken since yesterday." George explained before adding, "But I don't really see why you care, Doctor Shepherd."

An upbeat 'ding' announced the elevator and the doors slid open.

"Right," Derek nodded, stepping on to the lift.

-o-

"What's this?" Alex demanded when Bailey and Meredith walked past him.

"Oh this?" Bailey asked innocently looking over at the piles of papers that awaited Alex when he had arrived to the hospital.

"This—" she explained, walking over and lightly resting her hand on the first stack of files and charts, "is the pile of scutt that piled up during the first hour of your shift."

Meredith and Alex watched Bailey move onto a second pile, slightly larger than the first.

"This is what came up during your second hour. For the sake of time, I'm going to assume you're not a complete moron, so you can take a wild guess what the third pile is for," she snapped, and Alex rolled his eyes.

"Now thankfully your fellow interns took care of anything serious that required immediate attention, so all of this is relatively minor," she explained. "But that doesn't mean that it won't take the better part of your day, so I hope you weren't planning on trying to get into the OR today."

Alex gaped at his resident while she grinned back at him with all the cunning and glee, sporting a Cheshire cat's smile. "So three stacks, Karev. One for every hour you were late."

Turning back to Meredith, Bailey asked: "Who's on-call tonight?"

"Um, I am," Meredith answered, eyes darting nervously from Alex to Bailey.

"Not anymore," Bailey informed her.

"But I'm on-call tomorrow night," Alex cut in. "You can't have me on-call two nights in a row."

"Excuse me?" Bailey's eyebrows shot up, ironically enough, she managed to look _down_ on a man that towered over her. "I am your resident and if I say you're on-call, then you're on-call. Now take your scutt work and move!"

Alex grabbed the first stack and stormed away, cursing the "freaking Nazi" under his breath.

"That's right, I am," Bailey shouted to his back, irritated, but otherwise looking smug.

-o-

'_4 missed calls.'_

Flipping open the cover, Meredith pressed the lit-up buttons, scrolling through the missed calls.

_FINN…_

_FINN…_

_FINN…_

_FINN…_

Guilt gripped Meredith and she released a shaky, frighten gasp before stuffing her phone back into her bag. She blindly punched at the bag, slamming her locker door.

The hallow crash echoed off the floors and Meredith bowed her head, tears pricked her eyelids. She bit down hard against her lip, willing herself to hold it together. Shoving her hands into her lab coat, she walked into the hallway.

"Meredith," Derek stopped her, rushing up to her side before she had a chance to escape.

A series of distant greetings flashed through her mind. Anything ranging from a curt "Dr. Shepherd," to the more openly hostile "What do you want?" Ultimately, she stayed rooted to the floor, silently watching him through large, worried eyes.

"You're avoiding me," he said with a broken accusation. Meredith blinked rapidly, refusing to fall into his eyes.

"No," she immediately denied, before reluctantly admitting, "yes."

"I have to tell you—" Derek began, spitting out the words before Meredith could interrupt or run. "Finn called me today."

Meredith's head shot up, confusion etched her face.

"I'm going to get Doc today," he confessed, and Meredith peered at him uncertainly.

"Or, I mean, I'm going to pick up his body after work." Derek glanced uneasily around at the passing groups of people. Pulling his pager out, he looked down at the screen. Meredith thought he looked as though he hoped that it would begin beeping on command, rescuing him from this unbearable conversation.

"Oh," Meredith responded in a depressing monotone.

Derek shifted his eyes to hers, his gaze piercing her soul. "Are you on-call tonight?"

"Not anymore," she answered automatically. But after the words had escaped her mouth it occurred to her how they might sound to him and what kind of thoughts they might create.

'_Of course he would think that,'_ she reasoned, mentally kicking herself, _'he doesn't know about Alex's punishment.'_

His eyes lit up and she clumsily explained away his hopes, trying anything to dampen his excitement and not give him any ideas.

She wanted to hate him. She promised she'd try harder to next time.

"Oh, okay," he nodded as an uncomfortable silence fell. Meredith looked over his shoulder for some miraculous means of escape.

"I'm going to bury him tonight," Derek admitted suddenly. "Please come."

"I'll tr-" she began, but stopped herself before a feeble refusal could spill out. Doc was her dog, even if that meant he was also Derek's.

"Okay," she agreed.

"Okay," he repeated, smiling sadly while he reached out his hand to lightly graze her arm.

Meredith stiffened, immediately feeling another set of eyes upon her. She slowly twisted her neck to find Addison watching them, vindication written all over her face.

Derek mirrored Meredith's action, his arm dropping awkwardly to his side when he saw his wife.

Meredith scurried away, leaving Derek to face the accusing stare of his wife before he too walked away without a word.

-o-


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: About the **timeline**: Since Shonda Rhimes (aka god) says the first year of the internship won't end until the end of Season 3 (good luck with that ABC). We know Meredith and Derek dated for about two months before Addison showed up. Although most surgical residency programs (the ones I've read about, at least) start with June 1 being the first day, for the sake of making sense of all the rest of this, I'm going to assume the SGH program starts on July 1. Assuming that the fake prom took place around April and Addison showed up two months after Meredith's internship began, the interns are currently in the ninth month of their internship. (Because we're still in April here.) About the Bailey pregnancy—you know, we never saw her actually drink any alcohol, so just go with it. Trying to make sense of that will only make your head hurt.

Additional note at end.

-o-

**Chasing Infinity**

-o-

**Chapter 3**

-o-

Anyone passing Derek Shepherd as he studied the OR board might mistake him for a worried family member or nervous surgical intern given his demeanor. Messy brown locks stood on end after being trapped under a scrub cap for hours. He passed the blue patterned fabric back and forth between his hands and shifted his weight uncomfortably.

Addison exited the scrub room, tugging at the bow that held her scrub cap in place. Rounding the corner, she froze when Derek came into her field of vision. Slowly she crossed the expanse between them, facing the board.

She peripherally saw Derek's pupils darting over the names and times in the nurse's familiar handwriting.

For one fleeting moment, Addison hoped he had spent untold time waiting for her, like he used to. Like when they were happy.

But like so many times before, Derek's silence spoke volumes and Addison knew he wasn't trying anymore.

Maybe he never was.

Derek wiped his clammy hands against the napped cotton cap. Surgeons weren't supposed to have clammy hands, and they certainly weren't supposed to get clammy hands from being around their wife, of all people. But inaction proved a safe policy and Derek transferred his weight from the left foot to the right, passing the crumpled scrub cap from hand to hand in tense silence.

Addison gulped down the knot in her throat. In her mouth she could almost taste sawdust.

"I'm going to stay in a hotel tonight," she whispered, hanging onto a thin strand of hope that the man she married would turn to her, confessing all his secret thoughts and begging her not to go.

Then any remaining dreams crumbled as Derek slowly nodded his head.

"That probably would be best."

Five tiny words uttered without emotion, without even the courtesy of looking at her.

Addison choked down bile and blinked back pooling tears. She would not cry, despite how much she wanted to.

Around them the flurry of hospital activity continued. Nurses rushed from the patient rooms, overworked and underappreciated. Doctors sauntered confidently along the corridors. Families paced around, anxiously waiting for updates on their loved one.

The world continued spinning while Addison witnessed hers collapsing into splintered shards.

"Are we going to talk about this?" she tentatively asked.

Derek's gaze dropped and he cocked his head to the side, scratching his arm. He searched for something to say, and Addison desperately wished she could know what he was thinking.

"_Well by that point I wasn't thinking at all, Derek. By that point I was just scratching an itch."_

Addison swallowed hard at the memory. Was he thinking now? Was he not thinking at all? Was he simply scratching his own itch… if Meredith could be considered such a thing?

"Yeah," he finally answered.

Addison bit her lip and tasted blood.

"Tomorrow," he promised, sparing her a quick glance before he looked back at the board, severing his end of the conversation.

Addison gripped her arms, crossing them over her chest. She dug her nails into skin just to make sure she wasn't dreaming.

He uttered less than a dozen words, and that was it.

It was over.

Again.

As she turned to walk away, Addison wondered if she should've said something, despite how empty and broken any words would sound. She concentrated on keeping her steps equal when she wanted to break into a sprint. There was simply nothing left for her to say.

At least, nothing to say for today.

She knew tomorrow would come soon enough.

-o-

George frowned as Meredith's voicemail picked up. Quickly ending the call, he looked around the halls, searching for his roommate. A familiar mess of black hair whizzed past, and George jogged to catch up.

"Callie!"

She slowed her pace once he caught her, looking almost embarrassed despite a wide smile.

"You're avoiding me," George realized.

Callie shook her head. "It's not that, George. I just thought maybe you all would want it to be just the family," she confessed honestly.

"Well yeah," George stumbled, taken aback by her frankness. The lack of bitterness noticeably absent in her tone, and he immediately felt remose. "But that doesn't mean the family doesn't want you there," he offered, smiling as he watched her face light up.

"I'll come by when I'm through here," she smirked.

"Okay."

"Okay."

"Okay," George repeated, grinning widely as Callie walked away.

-o-

'_Don't…'_ he thought. _'Don't… don't…'_

A slight quiver.

'_Stop. Just a little longer…'_ he urged his hand as it began to tremble. Then the right hand crumpled into a fist that he cradled in his left.

Burke glanced up to see Cristina standing in the doorway, her eyes fixed on his hand.

"Hey," he greeted, forcing a tight smile that didn't reach his eyes. When she didn't speak, smile, or even move he tried again. "Are you leaving?" he motioned towards her clothes and bag.

"Yeah," Cristina whispered, inching towards the chair by his bed before slowly lowering herself into the seat.

"Look, I know I'm not very good at this," she spoke after a minute, "but, I brought you something." She reached into her bag and pulled out a plastic sandwich bag and tossed it onto Burke's lap.

"What's this?" he held up the bag to his eyes, looking with confusion at the scraps of dark threads.

"It's for practice," Cristina clarified, taking the bag from him and withdrawing two bits of suture material and handing him one.

Burke's lips curled up in a slight smile which Cristina expertly ignored. Deftly she began making a small surgical knot with the thread until Burke spoke:

"I used to practice all the time with these during my residency. There was never enough OR time so I used to practice surgical knots whenever I could. I'd tie suture material around my belt loops so I could practice when I was in the elevator. One of the on-call rooms had at least a dozen strings hanging from the bedposts."

"Yeah, I remember," Cristina said as she pulled her small notepad out of her bag, holding it up to Burke. Tiny strands of multiple knots hung from the spiral.

She watched Burke slowly take the ends of the thread in his hands, struggling to manipulate the material into a small, precise knot.

-o-

Meredith and George walked towards the car in silence, stepping over puddles as they weaved through the forest of parked cars. George snuck worried glances at Meredith, but she kept her head down and remained silent. She fidgeted with the keys in her hand, before finally— angrily— she thrust the key into the door.

Once in the car, George timidly asked, "Are you okay?" Meredith shifted the car into reverse.

"Why?" her eyes flicked to the rear-view mirror and George thought he saw her face paled slightly.

"Well, nothing, it's just that Shepherd asked about you today."

She slammed down onto the brakes and George jerked forward, grateful for the seatbelt holding him in place.

"He did?" Meredith asked, shocked and almost hopeful.

"Yeah he…" George trailed off and his stomach clenched. He knew that look on her face— the look she wore when Shepherd stared just a little longer than was proper, the look he'd seen for weeks after her boyfriend had chosen his wife, the look of a girl hopelessly and pathetically in love with someone who wasn't worthy. Then George realized the cycle was beginning all over again, "Is something going on with the two of you?"

"No George, my dog just died," she quickly denied, staring back at her reflection through the mirror.

George propped his elbow against the door, listening to the low roar of the engine and the faint clicks as the gears shifted. Behind them the hospital disappeared over the horizon, and the silence fell tensely and heavily upon them as they traveled home.

As George followed Meredith into the house he stared down at his shoelaces, colliding with Meredith when she halted in the doorway to the kitchen.

"Hi guys!" Izzie smiled brightly at the pair. Her eyes twinkled though they remained bloodshot and Izzie's face was red and blotched from crying.

At first George wondered if the past day had been some horrible nightmare and Izzie simply chose to unwind from a stressful day by baking. But as George scanned the room, he realized with horror that the extent of Izzie's grief dictated the scale her of coping projects.

And here he thought decorating the entire house for Christmas was pushing the envelope…

On the counter plates of cookies sat piled one atop the next in teetering towers that reached halfway to the upper cabinets. The array of colors vaguely reminded George of Easter eggs, or some surreal abstract garden palette. Chocolate brownies spilled from their trays onto the floor. A cake rested on the kitchen table as a sugary centerpiece circled by rows of cupcakes. Bowls and pans filled the sink, used spoons stuck out of dirty measuring cups like feathers in a war bonnet. From the mess, it even looked as though some small-scale battle had been waged inside the kitchen.

'_And I just cleaned this kitchen,'_ Meredith thought, biting the inside of her mouth to keep from frowning.

"What do we do?" George whispered nervously to Meredith.

"Stay perfectly still," Meredith advised.

George's stomach gave out a loud gurgle.

"Hey!" he protested with Meredith jabbed her elbow into his stomach. "I can't help it."

"So Izzie," Meredith began nonchalantly, "how are you feeling?"

"Me? Oh I'm great!" Izzie smiled, looking a little _too_ happy as she picked up a nearby bowl and began beating the contents with a spoon. George and Meredith looked towards each other helplessly.

"I met with the Chief today," Izzie seethed.

"Oh, well that's good," George offered. "How did it go?"

"He put me on leave! He wouldn't let me quit!"

"But Izzie," Meredith began, trying to use what she assumed would be a concerned motherly tone, "maybe this is just what you need— some time off before you do something that can't be taken back."

"I made my decision," she huffed, a blonde cascade of hair blocking her face as she bowed her head and continued to furiously stir the batter. "I'm finished. I'm not going to be a surgeon."

"You can't seriously be ready to throw away the years it took for you to get here. Denny wouldn't want you to do that," George stated.

"Don't you think I know that?" Izzie snapped. "I know that, George! I know that I worked hard to get here—first college then med school, then to get this internship. I _know_, okay? But it doesn't seem to matter anymore."

Izzie stopped mixing the batter.

"Do you know who called me when I got home today? Denny's lawyer," she spit out the words not waiting for a response. "And guess what? He has no family. None! He changed his emergency contact and listed me after his surgery."

"All the good I was in an emergency," she whispered bitterly to herself.

"Iz—," Meredith began, but Izzie cut her off:

"I'm planning a funeral for a fiancé that has no family. That I wasn't even engaged to for a full twenty-four hours. How pathetic is that?" Izzie asked, tears streaming down her face. The bowl dropped to the floor. The creamy batter splattered onto the cuffs of Izzie's jeans as her body shook with soft sobs.

Then doorbell rang.

"I'll get it," Meredith told George as she left him to comfort Izzie.

-o-

Minutes felt like hours, and later George emerged from the kitchen into the hallway, surprised to find his roommate and his girlfriend standing near the door engaged in what appeared to be an intense conversation.

But before George could decipher what was being said, the floorboard under his foot groaned and two heads snapped towards him. Meredith scurried up the stairs.

"What's going on?" George asked Callie.

"Nothing," she shrugged as he led her over to the couch.

One sitcom, two beers, and three cookies later they heard Meredith padding down the stairs. As she pulled open the front door, she stared apprehensively at the pair on the couch and George realized as the door slammed shut in her wake that she had been staring at Callie.

"What was that?"

"What George?"

"She gave you a look," he stated, locking his eyes with Callie's. Realization dawned and when Callie cast a look to the floor, George finally says: "You know what's going on with her."

His girlfriend blinked slowly, but refused to answer.

"You know and you won't tell me?" he asked, stunned and incredulous.

Callie shrugged. "It's Vegas, George," she threw back his own words, pulling his bottle of beer from his hand and bringing it to her lips.

George frowned, but relaxed into the sofa, lightly drawing Callie back into his arms.

-o-

"You came," Derek smiled, looking surprised, pleased, and unfortunately for Meredith, more McDreamy than ever.

Meredith looked away, pulling her thin jacket tightly around her. "I said I would," she reasoned.

Derek didn't answer and simply stared at her.

"So, you went to Finn's?" Meredith tried to sound casual.

"Yeah," he looked down, irritated at her concern for the man. Derek watched Meredith shake, at first assuming from the cool breeze, but then he realized she was shaking from fear. "I didn't tell him," Derek admitted, hating how relieved she looked at his admission.

"Oh, good," she breathed as she took a hesitant step towards Derek.

The breeze rustled towards the trees and Meredith shivered. Looking down into the pit she could see a small black shadow rested at the bottom. A pile of dirt and a discarded shovel rested nearby. An unassuming rock roughly a foot across marked the grave. Her eyes watered, but she jerked away when she felt Derek's hand on her shoulder.

"Meredith," he pleaded, begging her to open up to him.

"I'm fine," she insisted, stepping away from him cautiously. "So… what do we do? We just bury him?"

Derek shrugged. "Unless you wanted to say a few words," he offered.

Meredith cocked an eyebrow at him, her lips curling up in a disbelieving snarl. "Seriously? I thought you said he was _just a dog_," she accused.

"Yeah," Derek looked sheepishly down at his hands, "but he was _our_ dog."

"Fine," she huffed, unwilling to allow herself to break down. She took a step closer towards the grave. After they stood there in silence she stole a glance at Derek and asked: "Well, what do we say?"

Derek stared at the hole in the ground. Meredith could hear his steady breathing and a chill ran down her spine as she remembered his breath hot against her skin.

"I'll miss they way he used to chew up my shoes," he said finally, a hint of laughter hiding just under the words as he spoke to the grave.

He looked towards Meredith, a smirk playing across his lips and she burst laughing. Tired, exhausted giggles spilt from her mouth. She needed to smile, especially after the day she'd experienced. Even if it wasn't a genuine smile, smiling beat crying. She turned her attention back towards the grave as Derek stepped closer to her.

"I'll miss how he barked at the birds all night," Meredith offered, tears pricking her eyes as she continued to laugh.

"I'll miss dog walks along our trail," Derek whispered and Meredith's smile dropped, her head snapping over to look at him. Two tears escaped, sliding down her face and plunging to the earth.

"Derek," Meredith stepped backwards.

"Meredith…" he whispered, watching her with a look that made her weak. He moved to hold her and she staggered away.

"Stop," she commanded, questioning her own sincerity in the order. But Derek grabbed hold of her and held her by the arms. She gasped at the sudden contact, marveling how his hands seemed to burn her flesh even through the layers of clothing.

"Why?"

'_Because you're married. Because last night was a wonderful mistake that will never happen again because you're still married. Because we're here alone in the woods where we used to wait together all night just for the sun to come up. Because when I'm with you, I forget about Finn and all of his plans. Because I'm not going to be that woman that breaks up a marriage. Because I'm different than my mother and I won't destroy Finn like she destroyed my father,'_ she thought.

A string of responses flashed through her mind in rapid succession, but ultimately she settled on a shaky, incomplete: "Because."

And as she watched him, she waited for him to say something— anything to give her the courage to leap. Maybe safe wasn't the way for her and she was more like her mother than she had wanted to believe. All she needed was a signal and she'd throw it all away for him all over again.

In her mind's eye, Meredith saw him fall to her feet begging for forgiveness. She imagined him telling her that he'd leave his wife and how his life had been hell without waking up to her each morning. She pretended she heard him telling her he had made his decision last night when he reached for her, kissing her like he hadn't in ages. Kissing her like he had when life was simple and easy and there was no Addison and no Finn.

"Meredith," he repeated.

"What?" a strangled whisper creaked out, terrified of what he might say, terrified what would happen if he continued _looking_ at her like that and if he kept standing so close that she could smell his scent.

Derek's gaze flicked to her lips before slowly returning to her eyes. He leaned closer, eyelids drooping shut, silently planning to steal something that didn't belong to him. Not anymore…

'_How dare he?'_ she wondered as she stumbled angrily away from him. But she knew why and how he dared, and Meredith circled the open grave, vainly hoping the distance of the small hole could keep her safely away from him.

"But Mer—" he began, but she held up her hands, as if signaling for him to stop was all it took to quiet him. She felt her blood boil.

"But nothing, Derek. What did you expect? That I'd run into your arms and we'd live happily ever after like the past seven months didn't happen? Is that what you seriously expected?" Meredith ranted. Her face grew hot and flushed as she crossed her arms protectively over her chest.

Derek ran a hand through his hair. Meredith bit her lip, trying to forget how it felt the night before to run her own fingers through his hair. "No, that's not— It's just," he fumbled for the words. "Meredith, tell me what this means," he pleaded.

Meredith's eyes grew wide with shock and she felt her blood boiling in her veins. How dare he do this to her! Again, after all this, it was spiraling out of control once more, and she was teetering on the edge of the abyss. How could she have possibly pretended that this time could be any different?

"This, us… _yesterday_," he said. The breeze rustled through the branches. When Meredith refused to answer, Derek walked over to the grave and reached for the shovel.

Clumps of damp earth dropped into the void and Meredith watched Derek's body shift and sway as he worked the shovel. In the isolation of the woods, it was so easy to pretend they were the only two people in the world. As Meredith watched, a part of her tried to image what the past seven months of her life would have been if Addison had never shown up

But that part of her had believed in fairytales and happily-ever-afters. And Derek had killed that part of her when he broke the rest of her. Meredith silently cursed herself for even imagining… she wouldn't ask and she wouldn't beg. Not anymore.

"Meredith," Derek's voice broke her train of thought and she met his eyes. "I have to know, what does this mean?"

But Addison _had_ shown up, and Derek was still _married_, and Meredith was still _trying_ to be happy with Finn who had _plans_.

"You're asking me?" she asked, incredulous. Anger quickly bubbled back to the surface. "Seriously?"

Derek looked away, staring down at Doc's freshly covered grave.

"What makes you think I have an answer for you, Derek? I don't know what this means. And you shouldn't ask me," she stated, growing frustrated the longer she watched him.

Derek's head shot up and Meredith was taken aback by the fury glowing in his eyes. "Well, what the hell am I suppose to do, Meredith? Pretend like it never happened?"

'_No!'_ her mind screamed. But as she considered what to say she felt her steady pulse slowing increasing before racing out of control. The accelerating rhythm served as a constant reminder: _Finn… Finn… Finn. Finn. Finn. Finn.Finn.Finn.FinnFinnFinn._

"Yes," she whispered, the single word shattering the silence.

Derek looked broken, but so was she, and she'd be damned if she broke another.

Her heart continued to thud against the walls of her chest and she suddenly felt too warm covered in the jacket. Without another word, Meredith turned on her heels and ran.

-o-

Addison sat at the foot of her bed in the dark of her hotel room, idly twisting her wedding band around her finger. Flashes of city lights shined onto the floor and the diamond shimmered like a dying flame.

Dropping her head she looked over to her cell phone lying mere inches away from her. Methodically she reached for the device, flipping open the cover. She watched the screen flicker to life and she blinked rapidly to adjust to the bright light. As she scrolled through a seemingly unending list of names she wondered if there was anyone she could call, anyone who would listen.

One name did catch her eye and she stared at the screen for infinity.

Mark would listen… maybe… probably… _hopefully_, and Addison wished for the courage to hit the 'send' button. But the screen darkened and Addison's shoulders slumped in defeat as she carefully closed her phone and returned it to the bed.

-o-

Meredith rapped her knuckles against the glass panes. She heard the faint "we're closed" from inside, but continued, knowing eventually the door would open.

"Meredith?" Finn stood frozen and confused, staring at her through the windows piercing the door.

"Hi," she whispered, trying to force a smile. Her voice was thick and worn from crying.

"Are you okay?" he opened the door and ushered her inside, leading her over to the row of seats and sitting beside her.

Meredith shrugged. "Yeah, I… I'm sorry, it's late," she stammered, looking frantically around the room for an escape. "You know, I should've called. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have just shown up. I—"

"No," Finn cut her off, gently pulling her back to the seat when she attempted to bolt away. "It's fine. I'm glad you came."

Meredith nodded. Her hair tumbled down as she looked down at her hands that were tightly clasp in her lap.

"Hey," Finn brushed the curtain of hair away and tucked it safely behind her ear. "You okay?"

"Yeah," she immediately answered staring at her fingers. "I'm fine. It's just… we buried Doc."

"You mean you and Derek," Finn said. Meredith peered over to him, feeling grateful and guilty that his words held no resentment. How could he not hate her after everything she had put him through? But Finn still lived in blissful ignorance, unknowingly falling in love with a girl that was more scary and damaged than he could ever imagine.

"Finn," Meredith murmured, not daring to meet his eyes, "when you asked about why I kept holding onto Doc— why I didn't want to let him go. Derek and I…" she took a deep breath and glanced over at Finn as she watched his expression shift as the wheels in his mind churned. She shuttered before steeling her resolve and charging dangerously on, "we dated for awhile when I first started my internship."

"He and his wife were separated," she added, noticing his confused expression.

"So that's why you two shared Doc?" he questioned.

"Yeah," she sighed, wondering if it was fair to reduce such a complex situation to mere fragments. Was it even fair to pull Finn into this when he didn't even know the whole of it? Could she truly pretend nothing happened?

Finn nodded, smiling slightly. "I appreciate your honesty, Meredith."

_Honesty_.

Meredith felt her stomach fall to her feet and wondered how he could be so _damnedperfect_ and what the hell was so wrong with her for not being able to fall head over heels for him.

Finn watched her, relieved, but working to gather the courage to ask one final question— a question he felt the answer to would solve the riddle of Meredith Grey. The why she was so hesitant to plunge into a relationship, why she refused to open up to him, why she couldn't put down a pet that had obviously been in pain…

"But you and Derek are over?" he asked.

Meredith's heart clenched tightly in her chest and she swallowed a lump in her throat. "Yes," she said, praying to God that she could sound sincere. She felt as if she might cry, but instead she looked to Finn and smiled.

'_This thing with us is finished. It's over.'_  
'_Finally.'_

"He and I— we're over," she grinned, ignoring the crushing pain that held her heart in a vice.

Meredith's stomach dropped and she felt ill. But Finn smiled back at her, and he wasn't married and he had plans. If she reminded herself these things enough, she could eventually forget that he wasn't Derek.

'_This will work,'_ she told herself. Failure was never something Meredith enjoyed. And Finn had plans, and she liked him, and he was perfect for her. So, she smiled until her mouth hurt and laced her fingers through Finn's.

-o-

-o-

-o-

A/N: I never expected to have as much fun with Grief-Stricken-Izzie as I am, but seriously, it's fun. There were another few instances of scenes that got bumped to future chapters because they didn't fit well here. The scene with Burke and Cristina was inspired by a passage from a book I'm currently reading where the author details how he practiced tying surgical knots to prepare during his residency.

The updates come slowly because they're longer than I usually do. Admittedly as far as plot goes—it's very slow going. I understand that. But this is dealing with multiple groups and honestly, I'm afraid if this sped up right now, the story and the dynamics wouldn't be fleshed out enough to be believable. The Meredith/Derek section was not supposed to be that long. Oops. Now if only there were enough words in the English language to accurately describe the glory that is all the various Patrick Dempsey looks.

Anyhow, thanks for reading. Reviews are loved and cherished, as are those who wrote them. Longer equals better.

-o-


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: I know, it's been awhile. I really wanted to get this chapter out before Thursday because it's the anticipated Derek/Addison scene. Since the entire fic has been outlined since the summer, the plan is to continue it as planned, regardless of what happens in Season 3.

If you're interested in the article used as research for this chapter, please see my LJ.

Lysa and I are still working on "Ever the Same," it's difficult with our different schedules, but we're still working on it.

Thanks for reading, thanks for reviewing.

-o-

**Chasing Infinity**

-o-

**Chapter 4**

-o-

Callie slowly peeled the paper wrapper away from the cupcake, letting it drop down onto the table. A dusting of faint chocolate crumbs rolled onto the wood grain and she pinched the dessert with her thumb and index finger as she drew it closer to her mouth.

She hesitated. Cupcakes weren't healthy and certainly not an appropriate breakfast. She didn't need a medical degree to tell her that. But Callie once again noticed the piles of baked goods that littered the kitchen and shrugged. No sense letting it go to waste. She bit into the treat, colored frosting stained her lips.

"I didn't hear you come in last night," she informed the figure in the doorway.

Meredith swallowed hard, silently crossing the room towards the refrigerator. She scanned the shelves for something not seeping with sugar. Callie's eyes bore into her back. Meredith could even feel the sting.

"I wasn't with Derek all night," Meredith explained, moving the gallon of sour milk to peer at the plate of leftovers in the very back of the fridge. "I left and went to Finn's."

Callie snorted, and Meredith could almost hear the woman rolling her eyes. "So you run off to your boyfriend's after going out with your precious McDreamy?" Callie's voice dripped with distain.

Meredith whirled around to defend herself. She drew in breath, but Callie stopped her before the words could even escape.

"No, no. I get it."

"But—"

Callie held up her hand, silencing Meredith. "Look, I don't care if you want to always have someone else chasing after you while you chase after Doctor Shepherd. I don't care if you want to have an affair with a married man who won't leave his wife."

Callie rose and dumped the half-eaten cupcake into the garbage. Her dark eyes flashed angrily at Meredith. "George and I didn't sleep much last night. We were taking care of Izzie most of the night. You know, for being a member of this freaking family that George is always going on about, you're doing a pretty shitty job of being a member. So maybe you should help your family deal with their problems instead of going off and causing your own."

Meredith stared silently through wide eyes as Callie shot another disparaging glare towards her before marching out of the kitchen.

-o-

Addison toyed with the hem of her skirt as she waited. She was grateful she had decided to don her lab coat before locking her office and heading to the small, unused conference room.

The crisp white material had always given her a feeling of confidence even in the most intimidating situations. She remembered her very first lab coat on her very first day of residency as a mere intern. It was silly really. Something as simple as sewn fabric shouldn't be used as a security blanket. But in those first moments of fear and confusion, the paralyzing fear seemed to fade. And when the smiling intern who answered to "Shep" that she had fallen hard for during her second year of med school helped her slide the lab coat on, she felt like a doctor.

It was years later when she was finally important enough to warrant an embroidered name.

The sharp dark thread smiled up at her and Addison frowned back.

She would probably need a new lab coat soon.

One with a shorter name.

-o-

"I thought I would stop by and see how you were today," Bailey announced as she breezed into Burke's room. In her arms she carried a stack of magazines which dropped onto the foot of the bed, articulated with a series of dull thuds as the booklets dominoed against the bed.

"What are these?" Burked tilted his head, trying to read the titles on the spines.

"Reading material," she said simply, breaking the tower into smaller stacks. As she set each grouping onto the bed she announced the names of the various categories: general medicine, surgery, cardiology, and classical music. "You have some extra time on your hands," she explained, brushing over the reason he found himself with the addition time. "So I figured you could catch up on your reading. I won't be able to send my suck-ups in to entertain you. They've got to pick up the slack," she frowned, thinking about Izzie.

After she had left the room, Burke picked up the closest booklet. The sleek cover displayed a violin. Idly, he flipped to a page and began to read.

-o-

"No, it's fine," she gave him false assurances, reminding herself that if she was nothing else, she was Addison Forbes Montgomery; and Shepherd or no, she was the picture of professionalism. Derek would not see her cry.

"I moved out here. We went to counseling. We tried. It just didn't work," Addison said, half expecting Derek to chime in, to agree as he had so many times before that they were trying— had tried.

But Derek wouldn't meet her eyes and continued staring down at his tightly folded hands.

"It's fine," Addison repeated cautiously. "Because we tried. Didn't we?"

Addison didn't even know why she asked. Maybe she had tried, but Derek had been just as absent as he had been in New York. Only Seattle came with a doe-eyed intern for her husband to stalk like a forlorn puppy.

He refused to answer, refused to even look at her, and Addison suddenly had the twisted desire to know.

"Derek?" she pressed, almost pleading. Her voice broke. "We did try?"

Derek mumbled something so low that Addison couldn't understand him, and when she asked him to speak louder, the force of the words almost knocked her backwards.

"I slept with Meredith. The night of the prom I slept with Meredith."

She watched him in stunned amazement. "Excuse me?" her measured, even voice surprised her. Pain and sadness forgotten. The room was too small and he was too close and all she could see was red.

"I'm sorry, Addie. I never meant to hurt you," he gazed up at her, looking the picture of innocence and regret.

But Addison knew he didn't regret it. He wasn't sorry and he didn't care if he hurt her.

Addison paced around the room, trying to control the anger that was boiling inside of her. Derek watched her through worried eyes as she struggled for minutes before the eruption:

"You are unbelievable!" she began. Her volume and tone quickly escalated with each syllable.

Derek remained rooted in his chair, flinching slightly as she practically shouted at him. But he stayed there, taking it. She figured that they both knew he deserved it and more.

"This entire time you held Mark against me, Derek? After all the effort I put into saving this marriage. Moving out to Seattle— Seattle, Derek. To live as a damn woodsman in a trailer in the forest while you suffer through your mid-life crisis— catching fish and chasing women at least ten years your junior!"

Derek's jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed, but Addison kept her momentum, undeterred and barely pausing for breath:

"I gave up my practice to move out here to a husband who stopped loving me on the hope that we could save our marriage. I suffered through months of you holding Mark over my head— calling me 'Satan' and 'adulterous bitch' and acting all morally superior and righteous." Addison snickered angrily and laughed in a sing-song voice: "'Poor Derek Shepherd who's evil bitch of a wife is holding him to his vows when she couldn't do the same and is keeping him away from his true love.'"

Addison stopped stalking around the conference room, stopping across the table from Derek. She slammed her palms against the table and felt rewarded when he jerked back slightly.

"Well here it is Derek. You're finally getting what you wanted. So now you can run back to your little girlfriend and live happily ever after. Because it's only adultery when it's me. Isn't it?" Addison gasp for breath, a strand of fiery red hair tumbled from the clip, but looked pale against her flushed face.

"Shut up, Addison," Derek's voice sounded like ice.

Addison looked up from the conference table where she had been studying the flecks in the plastic top while she willed her pulse to slow. She knew that tone— it was the tone he'd used when she had first flown out to Seattle Grace. The tone that seeped with resentment and hatred. Addison wanted to slap him; maybe he wanted to do the same to her.

"This has nothing to do with Meredith," he finally looked at her. His eyes were dark and furious. Why could she never evoke such emotions from him? Why could Meredith? It wasn't fair.

"Oh, the hell it doesn't, Derek. It's the same thing!"

"It's not the same thing," Derek defended.

"You honestly think that I'll believe that?" Addison balked.

"You and me have nothing to do with me and her," he spoke angrily, pronouncing each word as if he thought she were a moron. Addison wondered if it was possible that he did.

"It has everything to do with her, Derek!"

"Listen to me!" he commanded.

Addison stormed towards the door. "No, Derek. Because I'm not going to listen to your excuses or justification on how this has nothing to do with Meredith Grey. Just like how me sleeping with Mark isn't the same as you sleeping with Meredith, right?" she fired back.

He looked as though he was seriously searching for a way to rationalize his actions. The thought made her sick. Addison crossed her arms protectively over her chest.

"I'll have my lawyer call your lawyer. Don't call me," she hissed, turning on her heel.

Derek rolled his eyes. "Don't worry, I won't."

Addison swung open the door, not at all surprised to find a small cluster of three nurses standing yards away from the entrance to the conference room. She pursed her lips tightly together, slamming the door behind her as she strode away to her office. Her black heels pounding against the white linoleum.

-o-

Meredith smoothed her scrub top with her hands, trying to ignore how much they shook.

'_What if I see him today,' _she wondered. _'What do I say?'_

Cristina walked up towards her, tying her hair back.

"I need alcohol," her friend announced.

Meredith's eyes widened. "Okay," she answered.

"We need to go to Joe's tonight," Cristina informed her, leaning her back against the nearest locker.

Meredith's eyes darted towards Cristina and then away. There were so many reasons why they _didn't_ need to go to Joe's. Meredith's history of inappropriate sexual decisions when she indulged in too much tequila. The embarrassing truth that Cristina was just a little too harsh and forthcoming in telling strangers her opinions after kicking bad too many. Knowing that Finn fully expected Meredith to show up for dinner after her shift ended. But what stuck out in Meredith's mind more than all the other reasons were Callie's words from that morning that rang in her ears:

"_Maybe you should help your family deal with their problems instead of going off and causing your own."_

"I don't think we should," Meredith timidly said, biting the corner of her lip. She tried to ignore the blank look that washed over Cristina's face.

"Okay, fine," she pushed her weight off of the lockers and headed towards the door.

Meredith sighed and rushed to stuff her bag into her locked and hurry after Christina.

"It's just, there's so much going on, and I don't think we should," even Meredith silently admitted how pathetic that sounded. With all the drama they were experiencing, who _wouldn't_ need a drink?

Cristina sneered at her. "Seriously?" she asked, but before Meredith had a chance to respond, her face faded from irritation to vulnerability and halted Meredith in her tracks.

"Meredith," she confessed, wondering why she was opening herself up like this. "I need my person."

She watched Meredith with guarded eyes, and bit her lip. Reluctantly, Meredith nodded, agreeing. It wasn't a good idea, but Cristina needed her person.

-o-

"Well good morning, Dr. Karev. Glad you could join me this morning," Addison spoke with more enthusiasm than she felt.

"Why?" Alex glared and stopped directly in front of her, crossing his arms angrily across his chest.

"Why?" she repeated innocently. "Why what?"

"Why am I assigned to you again?" his words dripped contempt.

Addison merely smiled what could only be described as a sadistic grin, and began walking towards the nearest patient's room. She heard Alex's stomping footfalls thundering after her.

"I hope you enjoyed your break. Or at least, I hope it was worth it," she commented once he caught up with her. "But don't worry. I notified all the other services that you'll be on rotation with me. From now on, you won't be thinking about anything besides OB/GYN," Addison stopped walking suddenly to turn and face him. "So if I even hear a rumor that you're trying to steal patients or surgeries or trying to get out of this..." she trailed off, letting the threat hang in the air.

Alex rolled his eyes. "You don't scare me."

Addison remembered back to the first batch of interns she landed as a resident. Miriam Stegal, a squinty-eyed, arrogant intern who resented being subordinate to any woman who valued personal presence or fashion sense. The girl had aggressively challenged any direction Addison gave and constantly gossiped about Addison's _obvious_ lack of skill. Addison had broken her. And she would break Karev.

"I should," she smiled wickedly. "You should've known better than to cross me, Karev."

"Whatever," he huffed. But again, he followed when she strode down the hall, trailing after her like an obedient animal.

Addison smirked to herself. If she couldn't take her anger out on her husband, at least she could take it out on her intern.

-o-

Meredith gulped down the knot forming in her throat as she waited outside of Burke's room. The last thing she wanted was see Derek, but when Bailey had told her she was assigned to round with Neuro, she knew he had other plans.

"Meredith," he whispered her name softly as he took the chart from her hands. She turned her head away, refusing to meet his gaze. The danger that she'd fall in was too great for the risk.

"Meredith," he tried again, voice pleading, as he lightly touched her elbow, forcing her to acknowledge him, "can I please talk to you?"

"About work? Yes Doctor Shepherd, you can talk to me about work," her eyes strayed away from his.

With a frustrated groan, Derek pushed open the door to the room.

"Doctor Burke," he greeted his patient with more enthusiasm than he felt.

Burke looked up from his magazine and carefully closed it and set it on his leg, smiling at Derek and Meredith while Derek began a string of questions about Burke's daily progress.

Meredith watched Derek, peering at him when he had his concentration trained solely on Burke. Her throat felt dry and she gulped down a lump when remembered the way he looked at her when he bared his soul to her at Doc's grave. She blinked, forcing herself back into reality. She had made her decision and she would not be broken by Derek again.

"Okay, well, things are definitely looking better," Derek's voice shook her out of her thoughts. "Your hand function has significantly improved." Derek gestured towards the piles of tied suture tangled in a small nest on the table.

Burke smiled, following his gaze, but when he flexed his hand the slight tremors began anew. His grin collapsed and Derek's jaw clenched.

"I still don't have full function," Burke noted sullenly, his frustration evident.

Derek tilted his head to the side, searching for the best way to encourage his friend, but realizing that regardless of how hard he tried; Burke might have spent the rest of his life working to regain full hand function without success.

"Physical therapy will help—" he began the rehearsed speech that he delivered many times before. He hoped looking down at Burke's chart would hide how grim the outlook was.

"Shepherd," Burke began, his voice quivering, "Derek… what about a beta-blocker or…"

Derek's eyes snapped to Burke, then rapidly returned to the chart in his hands, thumbing through the pages. "Your BP's normal. Any migraines?"

"Not that," Burke clarified, "my hand tremors."

Meredith's eyebrows furrowed, "I don't— I mean, what would beta-blockers have to do with this?"

Derek turned to her, meeting her confused expression. He sighed deeply and turned towards their patient, prompting Burke to explain to the intern.

"Beta-blockers are sometimes used to reduce tremors or shaking," he reluctantly fumbled for the magazine, passing it to Meredith.

"I can't prescribe you that," Derek told him.

Burke glared at him, his change subtle, but speaking volumes. "Why not? Inderal or Monitan could vastly improve my hand function."

She flipped to the page that had been creased open. Her eyes quickly scanned over the article highlighting drug use by professional musicians. Frowning, she set the magazine down on the room's guest chair.

"Try physical therapy," Derek encouraged, passing the chart to Meredith as he moved to the door. "You're not done healing."

Meredith reluctantly followed Derek into the hallway, shortening her stride to remain yards behind him. She watched her shoes as she trailed behind.

"Keep a close eye on him."

Meredith jumped and stopped when she looked up to find Derek next to her. _'How did he get there?'_

"With his drive for perfection, there's no telling how he's feeling— what he might do trying to regain his skill. I don't want him to use a drug as a crutch," Derek said lowly.

Meredith rolled her eyes. "Confined to a bed, he can't do much of anything," she quipped.

Derek lightly placed his hand on her arm, "Just do it, Meredith."

"Fine," she hissed as she began to start down the hall again.

"Meredith," Derek said, quickly walking to catch up with her. He took a shallow breath to tell her about Addison and how he had made his decision in an hospital exam room.

But she remained silent, so Derek nodded to himself and walked with her to the next room.

-o-

"George!" Izzie called out.

Callie and George looked up from their table on the far side of the outdoor cafeteria just as Izzie barreled towards them.

"Whoa," Callie whispered under her breath, wearing a look of absolute horror watching Izzie frantically grabbing a chair from a nearby table and shoving it between the couple.

George blinked, his confusion evident. "Izzie, what are you doing here?" his eyebrows furrowed. "I thought the Chief put you on leave."

"I just came from the funeral home," she explained breathlessly.

Callie's eyes darted over towards George, noticing his face blanching. Izzie grabbed for her oversized purse and produced a stack of glossy brochures.

"I've been looking at these all morning, and I don't know which ones I should pick," Izzie flipped through the top booklet. The pages were lined with rows of various shapes of headstones and selections of colored granite.

"Here," she said, handing George a catalogue of coffins. "I have until Thursday— that's when his funeral is," she explained, her eyes watering. "It has to be perfect. And George, you have to help me."

Callie sighed softly, but her eyes were full of understanding and she scooted her chair to give Izzie more room at the table. George gave her a tight, forced smile, "Sure Izzie."

-o-

The bag of chips fluttered down to the floor of the vending machine. Meredith squatted down to retrieve her snack while the small metal disks clanked down to the coin return. One dime shot out from the machine and rolled across the floor, settling under an empty chair. Frowning, she left walked away, leaving the change.

She rounded the corner in search of some needed rest and time to think… to process. But her gurney was occupied. Meredith considered turning away, worried about the information and conversation they would have could reveal. But he was having just as rough of a time has she was, maybe more with having to watch the woman he loved grieve over someone else.

"Hey Alex," she greeted as she sank onto the gurney.

He glanced over at her, barely acknowledging her presence before turning back to the magazine, flipping a page.

"You okay?" she peered at him while struggling to open the sealed snack. After many failed attempts to pry it open, he reached over and took the bag, pulling it open and stealing a chip before passing the rest back to her.

"Thanks," she said quietly.

After a moment, he finally answered her. "Yeah, I'm fine. I'm hiding from the She-Shepherd, so I'm fine until she tracks me down."

Meredith's head shot up, realizing that this was what Bailey had described as a 'special assignment' for Alex. "Addison?" her voice grey shaky and she wondered if he could hear her heart hammering against the walls of her chest. She fought to keep her voice level. "Oh, how is she?"

"She's a filthy whore-bitch, like always."

"No, I meant how_ is_ she?"

Alex studied her and Meredith suddenly thought she knew what patients felt like during rounds when half a dozen doctors and felt like they were being scrutinized from every angle.

"What did you do?"

"What?" Meredith winced at how loud her voice sounded. She hoped it didn't sound as guilty to Alex as it did to her. "I mean," she said, lowering her volume, "why do you think I did anything?"

But Alex possessed an awful talent for seeing through lies and Meredith felt her stomach twist into knots as Alex watched her. An eternity passed before he calmly stated: "You did something."

She opened her mouth to protest and tell him he didn't know what the hell he was talking about, but Alex laughed at her expression. Then she knew she was in trouble, because worse than Alex's ability to tell when someone was lying was his gift of guessing exactly when Meredith had done a horrible thing.

"You never ask how she is. You only ask how it is working with her," he commented, watching her suspiciously. "You did something."

Meredith counted the seconds until he finally put all the pieces together.

"So who'd you sleep with this time? McDreamy?" Alex smirked at her as though the question was the most amusing thing he'd ever thought of.

Meredith bit her lip and looked down towards the floor. And then Alex knew he would never again joke about his friend's sexual practices. He didn't want to risk a potential third victim— himself.

It occurred to Alex that although Addison served as Satan's whore when she wasn't rounding at the hospital, maybe he should cut her some slack— he knew full well the destruction Meredith Grey left in her wake.

-o-


End file.
